


can't get it back, now

by localdisasterisk



Series: ghost + guest [3]
Category: Half-Life VR but the AI is Self-Aware - Fandom
Genre: (not really it's just twitch), Aftermath of Possession, COVID-19, Canon - Video Game, College, Dreams and Nightmares, Gen, HE'S NOT GORDON'S SON HE'S THE PLAYER, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Identity Issues, OKAY YEAH JOSH IS HERE BUT LIKE. BARELY., Post-Canon, but from the OTHER side this time!, justin.tv
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:16:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29818611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/localdisasterisk/pseuds/localdisasterisk
Summary: Joshua Freeman– yes, Freeman like in Half-Life, haha, shut the fuck up– has a routine. He's kind of struggling with it, since he almost got sent home and everything shut down for a bit there, but he's, uhhhhh... managing?He does his homework in the morning, goes to class in the afternoon, attends the virtual classes in the later afternoon, works in the evening, collapses into bed. Rinse, repeat, throw in some video calls with Professor Luna or movie analysis with Tin or downloading whatever super fucking sketchy game Fuentes sent his way as needed.Until one of those super fucking sketchy games has real-ass people in it that care about him and kill him and suddenly Joshua is herding cats. And just as suddenly, he isn't. Because the game ended.What. Thefuck.
Relationships: Joshua Freeman & Original Character(s)
Series: ghost + guest [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2159229
Comments: 15
Kudos: 24





	can't get it back, now

**Author's Note:**

> hi. um. next chapter of abiab is coming out God Only Knows When, so take this as a peace offering. also, if you're reading this, you're definitely either looking directly at my profile or subscribed to me, so thanks you for that? anyway. Hoo Boy.
> 
> remember in chapter 2 of abiab when benrey looked at the player's torso and saw "JOJOSH SIWA"? no? well guess what that's this fucker's steam name because I've decided hlvrai is going to have the highest josh-to-non-josh characters in any media ever, even if I have to butcher canon to do it. anyway. player fic! because I wrote the sentence _"Joshua sets the headset down on his desk."_ at ten pm last night and then at 2AM I looked at the 4k wordcount and went. Ah.
> 
> content warnings for:  
> -weird identity issues  
> -typical post-canon trauma  
> -benrey is spelled 'benry' in this fic and I'm not happy about it, either  
> -oops! all OCs!  
> -this takes place in the Real Life so uh. haha. covid.  
> -more weird dreams!!  
> -making references to my own goddamn fics  
> -all-nighters  
> -haunted computers

His name is Dr. Gordon Freeman. He's twenty-seven, he graduated from MIT with a degree in theoretical physics, and none of this is real.

Joshua sets the headset down on his desk.

* * *

"No, it's– fucking _listen to me,_ man! Or– pay attention, you know what I! You know what I fucking mean! That's not– have you ever played Half-Life? Those characters don't exist! Google– no– _no! No y–_ you can't– shut the fuck up! _Google Benry right now!_ Go fucking– go do it! There's _nothing there."_ Joshua tenses the second the words leave his mouth.

(Joshua thinks about hearing, "Goodbye, Gordon!" He forces himself to keep breathing. He's not– he doesn't have to be Gordon anymore. He beat the game. He killed Benry. It's over. He's _done._ He never has to touch this stupid fucking pirate copy ever again.)

There's a long-suffering sigh like Fuentes is the one who just went through hell, and her screen goes black as she exits the call window to go google it. _"So you got a knockoff copy,"_ she says, finally. _"Big whoop? I– Freeman, what were you expecting? VR with high-tech AI? Of course, it's fucked up and not really Half-Life."_ She doesn't switch back immediately, and Joshua can hear her keys going. What the fuck is she looking up?

He swallows hard and shakes his head, even though she can't see him. "They were– Fuentes, they were real. They were _real."_

_"Freeman, whatever—"_

"You don't get your fucking hand cut off in Half-Life!" Fuentes sighs, harsh and grating into her mic, and doesn't try and interrupt him again, so Gordon continues, "It doesn't– it, it doesn't go like that! I had a fucking _panic attack_ trying to get out of the wrong side of a trash compressor because they were _real_ and they wanted me dead, and they _cut my fucking arm off because I didn't have my passport!"_ Fuentes doesn't say anything for a long second, and Gordon– Joshua can hear his own breathing, ragged and desperate. He clutches his right arm to his chest and squeezes at his wrist. Normal human flesh. Fine, and– and normal, and good! Joshua is– good.

Fuentes' face appears again. _"Freeman,"_ she says again, slowly, like she's talking to a really stupid kid, _"I'm not wearing my hearing aids. Whatever you just said? I did not hear it."_ Joshua laughs, and he thinks he might be crying a little, and he cannot fucking breathe through it no matter how hard he tries. Fuentes says something, but Joshua can't hear it as he devolves into coughing, his lungs forcing themselves to work.

When he's calmed down enough that it's just harsh inhales and exhales instead of literal hyperventilation, he looks back at his webcam and says, "Don't– you know what? It's fine. Don't worry about it." It's a lie, and a bad one, but it's a lie that's worked before. It got the Science Team off his back.

_"It's clearly not fine! I'm so fucking worr—!"_

Gordon hangs up. When she calls back, he turns his computer off.

Looking at screens right now is– fuck, he doesn't know if he'll be able to look at screens for like a month, after that shit. Christ.

* * *

Gordon can't delete the game.

No matter how hard he tries, it won't even _close._ It's still running. His computer fans just keep whirring away like no one's desperately trying to rip the haunted fucking program out of the hard drive, and eventually, he just gives up and piles the whole thing into his closet, leaving a dark spot on his desk where the sun hasn't managed to bleach. Even when it's unplugged, the computer doesn't turn off. The game doesn't shut off.

Fuck it. He was saving up to buy a new one, anyway.

* * *

Gordon tries to listen during class. He does! But there's so much going on all around him. The lights are all buzzing, and the girl three rows up is clicking her pen, and the guy at the next desk over keeps scratching at his notebook with his pencil, and when he breathes out, his mask makes all the hot air blow into his left ear which is too loud and too hot and _really fucking distracting,_ and. He can't focus on all this shit, okay? He could barely focus on everything going on in Black Mesa, and there, it was constantly life-or-death. How the fuck is he supposed to make himself care about past participles in a room full of too many loud people and the only good thing is that at least no one's shooting at him but he can't even be glad about that because _nobody was ever shooting at him because it wasn't fucking real._

Tin drops a couple of papers on his desk as they walk out of the lecture hall. Scribbled at the top is, _I took double notes for you, spaceman! If you get me a white chocolate mocha (grande, pretty please!) next class, then we'll call it even_ with a tiny doodle of an astronaut, a cup of coffee, and a little smiley hanging out around the appropriate words.

Joshua can't help but think of Tommy.

* * *

**From: Adrian Shephard**  
**I can't believe your apartment has a Real Mail Slot in the door**  
**Anyways**  
**I dropped off some notes for you!**

_From: fuegonaut_  
_hey are you ever opening skype again orrrrrrr_

Dear Mr. Freeman,  
I see that you have dropped my class. I am truly sorry to see you go, and I am sure many of your classmates share the same opinion. I understand that academia's pressures can be a bit much, especially in these— if you'll excuse the tired phrase— trying times. If there is anything you need from me in the future, whether that be a reference for employers, an unlocked PDF, or simply some advice, I would be more than happy to assist you. Don't go around advertising this, but you were one of my favorite students. Yes, even if you did swear a fair sight more than necessary in class discussions. I hope wherever you go next in life is kinder to you than Roxbury was.  
All the best, Professor Luna

_From: fuegonaut_  
_dude i know you're ducking my calls_

**From: Adrian Shephard**  
**Joshua, where are you? I'm worried**

To: Adrian Shephard  
i dropped out, man. it's fine.

**From: Adrian Shephard**  
**What??? Why???? Are you okay??**

_From: fuegonaut  
freeman we live 13 minutes away from each other. and fuck around on multiplayer to avoid calculus homework. and have bi weekly movie nights.  
did you think i just WOULDN'T NOTICE that you never fucking come online anymore?  
OR THE RADIO FUCKING SILENCE FOR A MONTH???  
if this is because of the half self but the life is hell bullshit im staging a goddamn intervention._

_From: fuegonaut_  
_FREEMAN_  
_I SAW JOJO SIWA CAME OUT AND MY FIRST THOUGHT WAS HOW YOU'RE STILL AVOIDING ME._  
_HUMAN CLAIRE'S HAS A GIRLFRIEND AND ALL I CAN THINK OF IS YOUR STUPID FUCKING STEAM NAME AND HOW MUCH I MISS YOU._

**From: Adrian Shephard**  
**Joshua?**

* * *

Gordon starts streaming. The streams don't get any views because it's not like anyone knows him, or like his shit's really all that interesting– some guy playing point-and-clicks twice a week, who cares– but it's. It gives him something to do, y'know?

Plus, Tommy said no one would wanna watch him play games on the internet, and even though Tommy was the only one that was anywhere near _tolerable,_ Gordon still wants to prove him wrong. It'd be easier to do if people would actually _come and watch him play games,_ but it's still occupying his time. Work is fine, and usually, when he gets back home, he's too tired to do anything other than maybe shower and then collapse into bed, but on his days off... on his days off, there's a lot of time to think. When he thinks, he thinks about Half-Life, and when he thinks about Half-Life, he thinks about the faint hum of his computer fans.

He thinks about the fact that they're all still there.

Gordon clears his throat and asks, "Chat, do you think the snake will actually kill me if I don't blow the horn?" On his screen, Vella wheezes as the snake constricts tighter, tighter, around her ribcage.

(He went into the room expecting an ambush. He wasn't expecting to trip over his coffee table and hit the ground, hard, or to get so tangled in the wires that he couldn't stand back up. It hurt, and he was half-listening to what was happening when Bubby and Benry cut off his arm, but– it wasn't him, groaning. He thinks it was _Gordon.)_

Vella blows the horn, and the snake attacks it, slithering off of Vella to slam full-force into the tree. She gasps for air. Joshua walks her back to the right and mutters, "I don't know if I really wanna find out."

* * *

Gordon drops a can of sparkling water on the ground. He picks it up, and then he laughs. "Damnit," he says, kind of amused by the– not irony, but whatever else it is, "I can't even fucking open—"

Joshua.

Clears his throat.

He pops the tab with his right hand and takes a long sip, and he waits for a second. There's no one in the apartment with him. He lives by himself, and he's not Gordon, and there's no one behind him. When he turns around, Dr. Coomer won't be standing there with a "Hello, Gordon!" at the ready. When he turns around, Bubby won't say something disparaging about his missing arm. When he turns around, he's going to see his apartment, not Tommy or Benry or shitty, late-nineties polygons, and it'll be fine.

Joshua turns around.

No one's there.

(The LaCroix gets forgotten when Joshua starts crying, for some stupid fucking reason. He doesn't even know why. He doesn't know what's wrong with him. At least none of the Science Team make fun of him for it.)

* * *

Gordon stands in a bathroom and looks in the mirror. God, he looks like shit. He hasn't looked in a mirror in months, or– fucking, however long it's been since Black Mesa. It's been months, right? Maybe– it can't have just been hours. It must have– could it have been days? He doesn't know. Gordon is looking in the mirror, and then he's looking at a face that isn't his, and then Benry is staring at him through the glass. "you're using my mirror," he says. Gordon takes a step back, and Benry steps out, clipping through the sink, and grabs him by the gun arm, pulling so hard it peels away. Gordon screams, and the gun flickers into a hand with a white plastic container gripped in the palm. "fucked up," Benry says dispassionately, dropping the hand. "you– you a lil liar boy? lie... lying to me?" Gordon stumbles back, and the guy stretches out, and it's– wrong. Nothing should look like that. Nothing _can_ look like that, even in the world where it's real, and then Benry is stretching more, and the world goes black with broken graphics.

Gordon yelps when he wakes up, making sure not to start firing at anybody.

No.

That's– fuck.

His name is Joshua Martin Freeman, and he has both of his hands. He's twenty-four, he dropped out of Roxbury Community College with way too much student loan debt and no degree, and this is real life. Benry is dead. Gordon– Gordon Freeman is a _character._ Joshua Freeman is a real person. Joshua is real, and he has two hands, and he doesn't know a Dr. Coomer or a Bubby or a Tommy Coolatta. Joshua is real, and he knows a Professor Luna and a Rebecca Fuentes and a Tin Shepherd.

Joshua can hear his computer fan whirring.

Joshua sits up and finds his headphones, jamming them on and searching on YouTube for white noise. The little white clock at the top of the screen accuses _1:28 AM._

* * *

Fuentes shows up at his door, a cloth mask over her surgical one like she complained about when the shift leaders started insisting on it, wearing a red shirt and an extremely annoyed expression. Joshua grabs one of the pink, disposable masks in the tiny cardboard box on his mantle, opens the door, and signs, "Fuck off." It's the first thing he learned from her, and it's definitely the one that's gotten the most mileage.

Fuentes barges past him into the apartment, and her hearing aids are glowing green, so she's definitely not _literally_ deaf to his loud complaints even though she keeps walking through his home, uninvited, like an asshole. "I'm staging an intervention," Fuentes tells him, opening the fridge and squinting at the mostly-empty shelves. "Damn, this is depressing. You want Cajun or Italian?"

"Y– I w– what I _want_ is for you to get the fuck out of my house!"

"Not happening until I make sure you're feeding yourself and behaving like a functional fucking person."

"Fuck you!"

"Fuck _yourself,_ Freeman!"

"Why the fuck are you even _here?_ Get– j– you don't have anywhere else to be?"

Fuentes slams the fridge shut and whirls on a heel, pointing a finger up at him threateningly. "You're lucky _Tin's_ busy with homework, and _I'm_ not. You don't get to stop coming to class, stop _going to school,_ start talking to people who aren't there—" Joshua takes a step back when she says that, involuntarily, and she takes another step forward— "for fuck's _sake,_ Freeman, I watched you input 'Gordon' and not realize _that's not your fucking name."_ Joshua takes another step back. Fuentes doesn't follow him, this time, though she keeps the accusatory finger pointed up at him from around chest-height. "I'm not being friends with a fucking kinnie," she says, but it's not hiding how concerned she looks. She's seen his streams. The ones where he forgets the Science Team aren't standing just out of eye-line.

"They," he starts. "You're watching m. Did I really put my name as Gordon?"

"Yes, and I really watched you stream Stardew Valley for three hours, so we're both going through crises. You're romancing _Abigail?_ Seriously?" Joshua doesn't say anything to that. Fuentes walks around him and sits down on the arm of his couch, pulling out her phone. "How about jambalaya?" Fuentes offers after a long moment of quiet.

Joshua sits down on the opposite end of the couch, ignores the weird deja vu, and says, "Nah, I'm– I'm feeling pesto. Not really in a spicy mood."

"Coward. Don't know what I expected from the man who cried from pepper jack cheese."

"I have done so much crying lately that I _genuinely_ think I could eat your mom's chile colorado and be fine." Fuentes looks up at him. "Pretend that wasn't concerning." She looks back at her phone. Taps at the screen a bit.

The silence is well past unbearable by the time Fuentes clears her throat and asks, "You, uh. Wanna talk about it?"

They don't talk about it.

They open the window and eat on opposite sides of the room, and they do not talk about it.

* * *

Fuentes starts talking in chat. Joshua talks back, and then he talks to MEATMAN, then to RedcaddyBaby, then the others that pipe up because slowly, more people have started trickling into his streams. Never more than thirty, and usually less than fifteen, but... still. It's more people than he expected. He adds, 'if you make a joke about gorgon freeman you get BANNED' to the chat rules.

(Not that he talks a whole lot about Half-Life, anymore.)

* * *

Joshua just streamed last night, but he has the evening and the whole next day to himself, and he can't stop thinking about the computer fans whirring in his closet, so he calls Tin. They brighten up as soon as the call connects and offer to keep him distracted if he'll keep them awake while they study for finals.

(Joshua knows that they took their finals last week because Luna keeps accidentally sending him the schedule out of habit. Joshua doesn't say anything about it, though, and Tin flips through their piles and piles of papers enough that he almost forgets.)

At eleven-thirty: "Joshua?" Tin asks, not looking up from their notebook.

"Hm? Yeah?"

"What was wrong with your copy of Half-Life?" Joshua bites his tongue hard, and Tin keeps looking down at the lined paper, just tilting their head a little. "Ribs mentioned– she, uh, she said that it... freaked you out? But I-I figured I should just ask _you_ for the, um. Details." Joshua looks at them for a long, really quiet second, and they finally peer up at him. Not expectant, or anything, just... open. Willing to listen to him, no matter what bullshit he tells them.

So he tells them. And they listen.

At one in the morning: "I forget they're not there." Tin hums consolingly, and Joshua snorts at the sound. He does _not_ need consoling that the Science Team isn't around anymore. They were fucking crazy. "I– I just– I mean, that's _all there was,_ for like, fucking– for like, _weeks,_ you know? Bubby was a dick, and Coomer said weird shit and Be– a-and Tommy was– Tommy was actually kinda nice, he reminded me of you, just– like, a kid. And addicted to soda instead of coffee." Tin, who had been about to take another drink of their third cold brew of the night, pauses. "I told him to lay off it, once? An– and he pointed a gun at me." Tin does a bad job of not smiling around their straw. It seemed like the sort of thing they'd appreciate.

Asshole.

At two-forty-five: "Is that... i-is that why you keep putting your name as Gordon? When you stream?"

"Fuck me, I've been trying so hard to—! Yeah, that's– that's why. I mean, I-I was Gordon for. Fuck, dude, pretty much _all_ of it — y'know, it's. I just forget, I guess."

"I thought you were just a– a, a kinnie, or something."

"Yeah, yeah, okay, _Shepherd."_

"I'm ignoring that," they say, holier-than-thou, and Joshua huffs. He should have said Shephard. Just to drive the point home. "D'you think, um. Was Gordon a person, too? Like– everyone else was a person?"

Joshua frowns. "I dunno. Probably not?"

Tin says, "Hmmm." Joshua thinks about Benry insisting they were best friends. About knowing, immediately, that the Einstein model was named Dr. Coomer and that he was Gordon's friend. Joshua also thinks about the bomb Benry claimed to disarm and the fact that every other word out of Joshua's mouth was utter bullshit that the rest of the Science Team accepted as entirely true.

Joshua agrees, "Hmm."

Tin slurps their cold-brew loudly enough that Joshua jumps out of his skin and his headphones fall out of his ears. Inaudible on the other side of the screen, Tin laughs at him.

At four, yawning: "What, like Reylo?"

Joshua squints at the screen, not sure if he's disgusted, exhausted, or both. "What? No? Oh, god, I hope not." It's definitely both.

Tin smiles, soft and probably starting to feel the lack of sleep catching up to them, and says, "You said he was a guard, right?" Joshua nods, and Tin sets their chin on the heel of their palm thoughtfully. "Barney Calhoun's thottier cousin, Kylo Ren," which is such random fucking nonsense that Joshua sputters with laughter, and Tin giggles too, and it's– it's nice. It's nice that someone human is making him laugh like that.

At four-eleven: "Fuck, I'm– I'm so tired; I gotta go to bed."

Tin hums, gives him a very sleepy smile, and asks, "Feeling better?"

Joshua gives them a mock glare. They're not even pretending this was about him helping them anymore — what a shitty liar. "I—" he flexes the fingers on his right hand a little, and it feels like just a normal extension of his arm— "yeah, actually. Thanks, Tin."

"Mmhm. Night, Joshua."

"Good night."

* * *

Joshua sits down at the edge of one of the islands on Xen. "hey," says Fuentes, sitting down next to him. "I don't have my passport," signs Joshua, except with his left-hand dominant because he might be missing the other one. Fuentes laughs– it's more of a cackle, probably one of the most fucked-up ones Joshua has ever heard– and then she says, "nah, you, uh. just gotta say bye." Joshua turns to stare at her. "You tried to fucking kill me! Why should– why do I have to say a polite goodbye to you?" Fuentes shrugs. "luna said bye. s'only, uh... s'only fair. gotta be nice." "Professor Luna didn't—! N– no, yeah, he– he did try and kill me that one time. Well. Still!" "you just don't like me." "I fucking hate you, Fuentes." Except that's not– right. He definitely said it, and he meant it, but... he doesn't hate her. They're friends.

Fuentes blinks at him.

" ," she says. "What?" Joshua asks. Fuentes puts a hand on his cheek, and it's cold. " ?" "I– Fuentes, I don't—" " . — . ?" She smiles, which is weird because her model's not really supposed to do that, and then she leans in and kisses him on the cheek. "best friends," she says simply. And she's right. Of course, they're best friends.

Joshua wakes up with tear tracks down his face.

...Tin asked if Gordon was a person, too.

God fucking damnit.

Joshua wipes his face, opens the closet door, plugs his old computer back in, and goes into the trash. He couldn't empty it no matter how hard he tried earlier, and he could only pull one file– BENRYBENRYBENRYBENRYB.dmgRYBENRYB– into the trash can. His mouse hovers above the "Empty Trash" button. It wouldn't do anything. He _knows_ it wouldn't. The file looking less saturated and vulnerable or whatever the fuck is just– what time is it? Five in the morning? Yeah, okay. Sure.

Joshua pulls the file out of the trash and puts it back in the sub-folder he found it in.

The computer bluescreens.

"No."

And, after a second, _"NO!_ Shit, fuck fuck _fuck,_ I didn't– no, _fuck,_ come back, what the fuck is— no!"

But then–

but then the screen flickers back to life, like nothing happened, and... Joshua is watching Gordon Freeman. Or, he's watching _through_ Gordon Freeman, like flattened VR, and he sees. Benry. "Did you cook me breakfast?" Gordon– oh, shit, that is. Definitely Joshua's voice coming out of his speakers. Trippy. "I... I didn't even know you knew how to cook."

Benry makes lip-smacking sounds and stands in front of what looks like it _might_ be a shittily-rendered stove? "yeah," he says, which still makes Joshua tense up on instinct. "no, i uh. don't. had to. google."

Gordon laughs, and even though everything is the same shitty graphics as Half-Life, Joshua would _swear_ that Benry's staring at him. At– at Gordon, not through the screen. If Benry could see him through the screen, Joshua would throw the computer out of the fucking window, thanks. "Thanks," Gordon says, and Joshua can hear him(self??) smiling as he says it. "You can– I mean, fuck, you can stay forever if you'll keep cooking for me."

"deal," says Benry, way too fast, and Gordon laughs again. "yeah, yep, i can umm i can. do that."

Gordon reaches into a polygonal cabinet and pulls out a polygonal plate (with his left hand; it looks like he doesn't have the gun arm or the wound anymore, but his right arm is still missing) and starts one-handedly serving himself... yellow. Eggs? "You can stay forever anyway," Gordon tells him, and– holy shit, Joshua didn't know his voice could be that soft. _Can it?_ This is– this is fucking weird in like twenty different ways, Jesus shit. It's like ventriloquism and voyeurism and probably hallucination and definitely a haunted computer all in one big, fucked up moment that Joshua needs to get a therapist to talk to about. "What kind of friend would I be if I kicked you out?" Holy shit. Holy shit, they're really friends. There probably was some fucking real-ass sand and mud. Joshua's going to text Tin the second all of this shit stops.

Benry's shoulders glitch a little, and Joshua thinks it might be... a shrug? "still best," he mumbles, "cause of the, uh. You." _(This_ is the terrifying alien thing that tried to kill Joshua and cut off his fucking arm??? This is the fucker that gave him horrifying nightmares for the past four months?? This whipped gay bitch?)

Gordon puts a hand on Benry's face, like Fuentes did to Joshua in the dream, and says, so achingly fond that Joshua feels like a fucking creeper for listening _even though the pixellated fucker is using his goddamn voice for it,_ "No homo, though."

"all the homo," Benry protests immediately. Joshua gets a good view of the floor as Gordon doubles over, laughing. "fucking– all homo, all the time! what the fuck is– what's WRONG with y—?" The computer's screen goes black again.

The only thing left as proof that anything happened at all is the faint, slightly-louder, whirring of computer fans.

* * *

To: Adrian Shephard  
yeah Gordon was definitely his own person.  
and I think he and Benry might have. like. a THING.  
side note, the science team is still alive and hanging out on my computer that I can't turn on but also can't turn off. so.

**From: Adrian Shephard**  
**Hm.**

To: Adrian Shephard  
yyyyyyyeup.

**From: Adrian Shephard**  
**Well.**  
**I know it's sort of to the left, but. Freehoun rights?**

To: Adrian Shephard  
TIN. I LOVE YOU. NEVER CHANGE.  
BUT ALSO WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?

**From: Adrian Shephard**  
**< 3**

* * *

To: fuegonaut  
i just had a weird fucking dream. anyway. love you and i'm glad we met even though you kick my ass in capture the flag.

_From: fuegonaut  
love you too  
BECAUSE I kick your ass in capture the flag  
gg, siwa_

* * *

So Joshua's life goes on. It takes a long-ass time, but after enough late nights at work and later nights streaming and some metaphor-heavy sessions with a therapist, not to mention _liberal_ soundproofing of the closet, he stops responding when people call him Gordon. The nightmares don't disappear, but they happen a hell of a lot less. When going out in public on the regular (three cheers for capitalism) stops making him so overstimulated he's willing to kill anybody who clicks their teeth wrong, he re-enrolls for the next Spring semester and starts emailing Professor Luna.

August, the week before Fuentes and Tin go back to school, they have a virtual birthday party. Tin orders them all a slice of cake from the bakery Joshua likes, Fuentes plays a bass-boosted rendition of Happy Birthday that he mutes her for, and Joshua... Joshua drinks it all in.

He's not sure if he'll ever be able to leave Half-Life behind him, but he could get used to this. A whole life, out ahead of him, full of terrible friends and terrible video games to stream and terrible, hilarious jokes.

God. "Whole life." That's fucking cheesy.

**Author's Note:**

> alright in case you're wondering:  
> -fuentes and ribs are the same OC but she's also. Kinda Not. because in THIS verse, where joshua had normal parents and not the science team, they met online and played halo together as teens, and then ended up coincidentally going to college in the same area. (fuentes moved to go to Harvard; josh already lived in mass)  
> -I don't have a ton of background for tin, I just love them. however. it's absolutely crucial that you understand they have, can, and WILL blackmail, bribe, and otherwise swindle people into buying them coffee, even when they are perfectly capable of acquiring it without these methods. they haven't paid for their own caffeine since they were eleven.  
> -joshua still drinks lacroix in this universe. not because he prefers soda but will settle for things that don't trigger his dad, but because he's a bitch.
> 
> sorry about this REALLY weird departure from the rest of the verse, ummm I have nothing to say for myself!! hope you liked it enough to leave a kudos or a comment <3


End file.
